


You Don't Have to Go

by Brumeier



Series: Gay Paree, 1920s [8]
Category: Stargate Atlantis
Genre: Alternate Universe - 1920s, Established Relationship, Goodbyes, M/M, Paris (City), Photography, Post-World War I, Reunions
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-07-21
Updated: 2020-07-21
Packaged: 2021-03-04 19:20:06
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,146
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25431493
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Brumeier/pseuds/Brumeier
Summary: It's David's last day in Paris, and Evan does his best to make it memorable.
Relationships: Evan Lorne/Parrish
Series: Gay Paree, 1920s [8]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1816114
Comments: 9
Kudos: 27





	You Don't Have to Go

**Author's Note:**

  * For [squidgiepdx (squidgie)](https://archiveofourown.org/users/squidgie/gifts).



> Written for ficlet_zone challenge #29: song titles – James Brown

It was warm and sunny, the perfect weather to walk around Parc Monceau. It was probably one of the least French parks in Paris, but Evan thought David might like the follies and the general festive atmosphere.

He knew it wouldn’t be enough to make David stay.

“Not quite as dramatic as the originals,” David said when they stopped by the Egyptian pyramid. 

It had been built as a faux tomb, one of several in the park. 

“Have you been to Egypt?” Evan asked.

“No, but I’d dearly love to see the Orman Garden in Giza.” David was a horticulturist and could wax poetic on flowers and plants for hours. “I’ve heard the Nile River is beautiful.”

Evan wondered how any body of water could compare to the Seine, although he supposed he wasn’t exactly objective. Sitting and painting that tranquil river had been a much-needed balm to his soul after his experiences in the war.

They continued walking along the sun-dappled path, which curved through the trees toward the little bridge meant to be a replica of the Rialto bridge in Venice. Evan desperately wanted to hold David’s hand, but there were a lot of families in the park and he’d learned to be cautious.

“Do you ever paint here?” David asked.

“Sometimes. I’ve done a few studies of the colonnade.”

“I wish I had a painting of you,” David whispered, blushing.

“I’m not great at self-portraits,” Evan admitted. “But…maybe there’s something we can do.”

When they finished meandering through the park, they took a tram back to Evan’s neighborhood. He had a friend, Claire Archambeau, who created her own kind of art with a camera instead of paints. They were lucky to find her at home.

“Evan, mon ami! Comment allez-vous?”

Claire was tall and solidly built, what Evan thought of when people spoke of the mythological Amazons. She wore a black and gold caftan, her feet bare and her graying hair cut into a fashionable bob.

“I’m well, thank you,” Evan replied. “Claire, this is my friend David. David, Claire.”

“It is my pleasure,” Claire said in thickly accented English, offering her hand. “You will come in?”

She served them tea in delicate china cups and offered equally delicate cookies.

“I was hoping for a favor,” Evan said. “David is going back to America tomorrow.”

Claire nodded. “You would like the picture, yes? Mais bien sûr!”

They finished their tea first, while Claire quizzed David on his trip abroad and the things he’d enjoyed the most. David took advantage of a captive audience to discuss the gardens and palaces he’d visited.

After tea, they went to Claire’s studio. She did professional portraits to pay for the equipment she used for the photography work that was her real passion: photo essays that captured everyday life in Paris.

Claire arranged Evan and David, took their picture, and then re-arranged them and took another. 

“You will want one for you alone?” she asked.

Evan exchanged a look with David. He knew what she meant. So far, they’d posed no differently than two friends or brothers. Clair was offering something more intimate. Evan could picture that photo in his mind, the two of them with their arms around each other, maybe even kissing.

“No,” Evan said. “Thank you, though.”

Claire nodded her understanding. “You come in the morning. I will have them for you.”

Evan gave her a hug, and so did David. They left Claire’s and went to Evan’s apartment. It was their last night together and by mutual agreement they’d decided to spend it in, just the two of them.

Evan hadn’t asked David to stay, which would’ve been selfish. The man had a life back in the States. A career. Instead, he tried to commit every moment of their last hours to his memory. The taste of David’s lips, the graceful arch of his back, the sounds he made when Evan touched him just the right way.

It was the best and worst night he’d had since he came to Paris.

*o*o*o*

Evan sat in his usual place along the Porte des Étoiles, staring out at the Seine. There were no new paintings to sell. He hadn’t been inspired to create since David left three weeks ago. Teyla assured him he’d move past that in his own time, but he wasn’t so sure.

Maybe he needed a change of scenery. A trip to Luxembourg, or Scotland. Perhaps the Highlands would inspire him to paint again, because there would be nothing there to make him think of David.

“Un portrait, s'il vous plaît, monsieur.”

Evan dutifully pulled out his pencils and sketched the young boy that sat in the empty chair, his mother watching closely as Evan replicated her son with a few carefully rendered pencil strokes.

It was a slow day. He only did one other portrait and spent most of the rest of the day watching the people who passed. Families, young men and women, lovers holding hands, gentlemen slowly strolling along, and even a curly-haired mime who acted out an entire circus.

Evan gave up the ghost as the sun started to set. He started packing up his easel, his pencils. Tucked into his pencil case was one of the photographs Claire had taken of him and David, and he studied it for a long moment.

_We orbit in and out of lives, leaving something of ourselves behind, and gaining something new at the same time. Every meeting, every parting, should be celebrated._

Evan’s mother used to say that whenever Evan or his sister Natalie felt sad about someone moving away or passing on. He knew he needed to process his parting from David, and the unexpectedly deep feelings Evan had developed for him in a short period of time.

 _Le cœur a ses raisons que la raison ne connaît point_ , the old French saying went. Evan fully believed it to be true.

Evan finished packing up and hefted his easel over his shoulder.

“Am I too late?”

Evan froze for a moment, his heart pounding. He slowly turned, certain he was wrong, but no. There was David in his favorite brown suit, hands in his pockets. He looked as uncertain as he had the first time they’d met. 

“No,” Evan said, after clearing his throat. “No, you’re not too late. What are you doing here?”

David shrugged. “Once you’ve found everything you’re looking for in Paris, Portland loses a little of its luster.”

Evan couldn’t stop the grin spreading across his face. David took possession of the easel and together they walked along the promenade. They watched the sun set over the Seine, Evan not asking any questions. At least not then. He just wanted to embrace the moment without worrying about what was coming next.

As the shadows lengthened, David reached for Evan’s hand. “Let’s go home.”

**Author's Note:**

>  **AN:** I had no intention of adding another challenge to my lengthy list, but something about this one just reached out and grabbed me. I was scrolling through the song titles, and a couple seemed promising, and then this one practically screamed at me. I knew exactly what ‘verse I wanted to use it for, and this fic pretty much just poured out of my brain. And there you go. ::grins::
> 
> For squidgie, as all Porne fics are!


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